A powwow

Hey all,

I wrote this for an anthro class. It's a reaction to an Indian powwow that I visited. Think its well written or funny? Cheers

Turtle Island

The first vender that sparked my interest was a man selling animal skulls, feet, and furs. He had just one visible tooth but he seemed nice so I talked with him for several minutes. The man had no affiliations with Indians, but shared a love for killing and displaying body parts of small animals, so I guess he fit in here. His method was to leave traps for the critters and wait for muskrats, rabbits, beavers, coyotes, and anything else with fur to step in them. I asked him how he gets the skulls so nice and shiny, and he boasted that he prefers the natural method of boiling them in a cauldron for six hours, refraining from the more efficient yet somehow less satisfying commercial method of submerging them in Clorox for three hours. I have no problem with killing animals if it was for food but when I asked if he ate the meat, he replied, "You can eat the beavers, they say they're good".
All of this talk made me hungry so I ventured into the food area and bought a vegan burger. Having never tried one, I was curious, and having finished it I went back and bought a beef burger. I was disappointed that the cost of admission did not cover the food, but I was hungry enough for the meal to seem decent and I was eager to talk with more venders. I passed by one table that seemed laden with various herbs, some for smoking, some for incense, and some for both. A lover of most things involving fire, and an occasional smoker, I stopped and examined the various pouches. I was immediately attracted to a cellophane wrapped sack labeled "Eastern Blend". The back description exploited stereotypes often associated with eastern mysticism (peace, mindfulness, harmony, green trees, and all things Buddha and nature-like enough to sell to the native sympathizing crowd). A bit peeved, I asked the vender, an ambiguously native-looking woman who seemed annoyed by my interest, for help choosing between two of her smoking concoctions. She paused for just a moment before pointing to the more expensive of the two, a wood dust looking blend of catnip and kitchen spices. I sighed, and handed her five one-dollar bills and one Sacagawea coin, which I can't say was an accident. Her reaction to this gesture was unexpected and completely changed my impression of her and the venders as a whole; she handed the coin back to me, saying "That one's special, keep it." I guess she considers the coin a step forward in the fight for native recognition and it would do more help for her cause if it remained in the hands of a White kid than in hers. Amused, I thanked her for the discount and walked to the next booth.
This vender was dressed in some natural garments and could have passed for a Native. I grabbed a sack of incense and asked him, ÒCan I get this?Ó He replied, "You can get that in lots of places". "Can I get it here?" "You can buy it here". He made no motion to take my money. Was he trying to sound like a wise Indian, or just retarded? "Then I wont have to travel far to get it". He changed the subject, asking me if I knew that every Native American tribe called the North American continent "Turtle Island". I asked him how they knew, without satellite photographs, what the entire continent looked like. He responded, "have you ever seen a map of North America"? I then rephrased my question, claiming they did not have the travel experience to know that North America could possibly resemble a turtle. He smiled, and walked me to another booth that sold $10 maps of pre-colonial North America, listing the tribes in their relative locations. I wondered to myself how, the tribes being as nomadic, one could devise a map that limits them to one region and not associate it with any particular time period (besides pre-colonial). I kept this to myself when I saw him pointing to Florida, Baja California, and the other parts of the map that make it seem to resemble a turtle. He explained that every tribe listed, even those from Canada, Mexico, and Central America, all worshipped the turtle and believed that they lived on "Turtle Island". I could not understand how all of these tribes, with their vastly differing cultures and beliefs, and confinement to small areas, could possibly know the limits to their landmass well enough to unanimously agree that it resembled a certain animal. I nodded in agreement and left when it seemed I could, passing by a vender selling wooden baskets carved to look like turtles.
I enjoyed the powwow, especially the hand-made crafts. I found myself being over-eager to point out the flaws that I saw Ð crafts made in China, crafts made by machine, the lack of people who I consider to look Indian, and advertising gimmicks that seemed to exploit stereotypes and patronize customers. I wanted a real Indian experience, and perhaps I got one, but I will never know for sure. Do Indians smoke catnip? Do they eat vegan burgers? Do they bleach skulls? Do they have paintings on their walls of wolfs and bears watching rainbows in the tundra? But I did have fun, and enjoyed the conversations I had with the venders and sharing thoughts with acquaintances who wandered in. It was a good day, and IÕm keeping my Sacagawea.

 

And while I'm at it, this is another reaction paper that I'd like feedback on. It is my reaction to political pundit Ward Churchill. Sorry if quotations don't transfer right from word to the forum.



Anger and Confusion
After fidgeting in my seat for nearly four hours, my impression of Mr. Churchill is still undecided. Either his arguments are extremely complex yet sound, passing right over my head, or he made no sense whatsoever. I must lay down my ego here; I have no clue what he was talking about. I place the blame partly on my short attention span and part of it on WardÕs knack for dwelling on dull issues that no one present cared to hear. Or, maybe, I just could not wrap my brain around his extremely long-winded arguments. I found them indigestible, and I think he would have gotten through to me better if I was reading his words and had time to grasp their significance. I will give him the benefit of the doubt and resolve to read some of his articles before judging that credence of his apparently outlandish statements from which he is often quoted.
But I must say that I admire the manÕs ability to evade almost any question, refusing, with one exception, to answer with a yes or a no. For instance, one of the (I assume) College Republicans asked Churchill if he considers the WTC casualties to be victims. This is a perfectly valid question, but it was left unanswered even after it was yelled countless times by the increasingly agitated crew-cut section of the audience. He would ramble on and on but remained evasive concerning the WTC and ended the last call for an answer with a frustrating ÒI already answered that question.Ó Perhaps he did answer it, in his mind, linking disparate rhetoric that to him offered an explanation. Or maybe, he didnÕt.
Another time, he was asked how he could hate corporations yet support the immensely powerful Connecticut Indian casinos. Ward was prepared Ð he paused for enough time to run a mental search for Connecticut tribes, striking a hit with ÒPequotÓ, withdrawing whole encyclopedias and absorbing them in about two seconds. He told of the PequotÕs demise at White hands and the misery inflicted upon them during the 17th Century yet did little to relate this to the manÕs question. Was he was trying to say that the Pequots deserve a casino because hundreds of years ago their ancestors were mistreated, and that modern corporations are still essentially evil? His logic seemed specious. He even appeared to downplay the economic power of these casinos, calling them ÒbingoÓ. I would have been happier if he had conceded that even Foxwoods is evil and the Pequots ÒLittle EichmansÓ. At least then he would have been consistent.
Far more interesting to me was the crowd and their reactions to the gruffy, elusive Churchill. I would estimate that about 2/3 of them were liberals who supported him and the rest wanted him hanged. The latter group, conveniently seated at ChurchillÕs right, lacked the long, frizzy hair, Che Guevara shirts, beards, tape recorders, and nodding heads of the supporters but sported crew cuts, frustrated grimaces, and penchants for verbal interruptions and telephone rings that refused to end. Did they tell their cohorts to call them at will that evening, or were they actually calling each other? Regardless, I thought it was pretty rude and a dirty tactic. Yet even they seemed atrophied by what one older Churchill opponent called a Òrambling boreÓ. That man, by the way, left early in the performance after a fiery exchange, secretly returning to sit in the back row. The chance of seeing an actual physical altercation between the two was real enough for me to wait into the night.
I had read on WardÕs Wikipedia profile that he opposed the new age movement, particularly despising the writings of Carlos Casteneda for its exploitation of indigenous spirituality. I had planned to ask him to explain this position but lost my motivation after a few lifetimes. The discussion never approached anything near enough to Casteneda for the question to be relevant, but moreso, I doubted his answer would be satisfying. His abstract style would have been more effective in a debate with a definite topic between himself and other academics. It was too undirected and the audience too unfamiliar and uninterested with most of what he wanted to discuss. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the evening for its heated flare-ups. Some people dislike arguments, but I think that they only strengthen beliefs. How can you trust your beliefs if they are never tested? Churchill pushed more than a few buttons in the audience, sending seething republicans into embarrassing tirades before forfeiting their dignity and storming for the door. It was awesome.

 

I saw the word "powwow" and jumped to read this one. 'Twas cute and quite accurate. Pow wows are generally filled with garbagey salesmen and overpriced dream catchers. They're fun though. I do a lot of dancing (jingle dress) and always come to see the grass dancers, fancy dancers and to enter the inter-tribals if I'm not in regalia.

And for the record, not all natives look 'indian.' My mom's a full-blooded ojibwe/shawnee mix and my dad's a white guy. I've naturally blonde hair, pale skin and blue eyes. And although I grew up on the reserve, speak my mother's native tongue (ojibwe) and have been dancing jingle dress since I was little, many people are still ignorant enough to tell me I don't look native enough to be a real indian.

 

I have to say that although you started out with interesting subject matter, in both, you failed to capitalise on this and did not hold my attentiaon for more than about 15 maybe 17 sentences in either. To improve this writing I would suggest that you rework the middle parts of it and then leave it somewhere for a month before going back to it.
After that month reread it as though you were reading it for the first time and make adjustments. I really think you just need more practice and to put in more work on the rewrites. It is a fact that almost every writer has to work hard and make many rewrites to almost everything they put into written form before they consider it finished